


every second of my life, I only live for you

by Anonymous



Category: The Smiths
Genre: Fluff, M/M, i should be working on my main fic oops, just another johnny and moz moment, silly and in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-06
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-17 13:35:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28600788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: title is from 'life is a pigsty' by morrissey
Relationships: Johnny Marr/Morrissey
Comments: 10
Kudos: 28
Collections: Anonymous





	1. Chapter 1

_Set early 1983._

*

Morrissey smiled to himself as he watched Johnny float around the kitchen, drink in hand.

“Ah Moz, put the radio on darling?” he said, nudging the fridge door shut. “But no skipping fifty thousand times please.”

“I simply wont stand for bad music in my house.” Morrissey said, switching on the radio. “As well you know.”

He jumped up so he was sitting on the kitchen worktop and began to skip through the channels until he found an acceptable tune.

He set the radio back down and looked back at Johnny.

The guitarist was reading a copy of their NME interview, wine in hand.

He turned the page and smiled at one of the photos of Morrissey in a ruffled white blouse, posing dramatically with some flowers.

“Nice shot, Mozza. Very alluring.”

“I’m glad you think so.” Morrissey smiled. “I thought I should let the world share in my daring dress sense.”

Johnny laughed, looking up. “Daring is right. What about this one?”

He held up the magazine and gestured to another photo of Morrissey lying on the floor, hand on his chest, staring into the camera.

“Are you not enjoying it?” Morrissey raised an eyebrow.

“Oh no. Didn’t say that. I enjoy all of it.” Johnny smirked.

He abandoned the magazine and his wine then and walked over to the singer.

“Really?” Morrissey said, unable to keep a bashful smile from his face.

It still felt strange and giddy to be like this with Johnny.

Although still early in their romantic relationship, the fact that they were best friends meant awkwardness was rarely an issue.

And having Johnny’s eyes on him all the time, appraising him, was like a shot of adrenaline.

“ _Really_.” Johnny nudged the singers legs apart further, sliding between them where he was still sat on the kitchen counter.

“Well I enjoy your dress sense, also.” Morrissey said.

He tentatively put his arms round Johnny’s neck then and Johnny slotted closer into the embrace, smiling.

“Give us a kiss then.” he murmured. “Gotta share you with the whole world now.”

Morrissey smiled shyly and allowed Johnny to pull him into a soft kiss.

“The whole world thinks I am odd.” he said a moment later.

Johnny laughed at that. “Fuck ‘em if they don’t understand the aesthetic, babe. I do.”

He gently rubbed his thumb down the singers sharp jawline, studying him.

“You’re bloody gorgeous.” he murmured.

Morrissey bit his lip, cheeks pink. “Oh Johnny, stop that talk.”

“Why? M’gonna keep telling you, ya know. Every day, if thats what it takes.” Johnny insisted.

He leant in and pressed another quick kiss to the other mans lips.

“You are incredibly handsome also.” Morrissey breathed, butting his head against the guitarists shoulder.

Johnny wrapped his arms round him then, embracing him tightly.

Morrissey sighed happily.

“This ok, yeah?” Johnny whispered a moment later, breaking the silence.

“Yes. Perfect.’ Morrissey nodded.

He pulled back slightly and reached up, pausing for a second before gently running his hand through Johnny’s wild hair. “I do love your hair the most.”

Johnny grinned at him.

He looked so young and open and full of love that Morrissey wanted to bottle the moment, capture it and keep it forever.

“Love yours as well.” he said. “The quiff. The iconic Mozza quiff.”

He copied Morrissey’s move and pushed his hand through the singers silky hair, smoothing it back.

“Come on.” he said a moment later. “Cant cuddle you all night on this bloody worktop, can I?”

Morrissey smiled and shook his head, switching off the radio and sliding down from the counter.

Johnny held out his hand and the singer grabbed it tightly, twining their fingers, grabbing his wine from the side.

He allowed the other man to lead him through the house and up the stairs.

Johnny pulled him into another kiss on the landing and Morrissey sighed, managing to set his glass down on the bookcase before wrapping his arms round Johnny’s neck again.

He felt lightheaded and giddy with love.

“Johnny.” he sighed.

“Yeah?” Johnny gently ran his hands up and down the other mans slim frame. “You’re so bloody fit, you know that?”

Morrissey laughed then, embarrassment and warmth flooding his veins.

“You are very sweet to me.” he murmured. “No one has ever told me any of these things before.”

“Never?” Johnny pulled back and blinked. “More fool them. I’m making up for lost time yeah?”

Morrissey nodded.

“You wanna go lie down yeah? That ok?” Johnny asked.

Morrissey nodded again, dropping his head down and kissing Johnny on the cheek. “Yes. Of course.”

He appreciated Johnny’s checking in all the time, it was just another layer of why he was so stupidly in love with the guitarist.

Johnny took his hand again then and they walked into the bedroom.

Morrissey shut the blinds and curtains, switching on a lamp in the corner.

“I missed this comfy bed.” Johnny sighed in appreciation, shedding his shirt with ease.

“Just the bed? Not the _contents_ of the bed?” Morrissey teased. He felt bold enough to also unbutton his own shirt and discard it.

“Oh I like the contents.” Johnny smirked, eyes coveting the singer. “Very much.”

Morrissey laughed and shed his jeans so he was left in just boxer shorts.

He stood for a second, unsure, until Johnny gestured for him. They met in the middle of the room in a soft kiss.

“God.” Johnny murmured. “Is it inappropriate to say I just wanna kiss you all over?’

Morrissey bit his lip. “You do?”

“Yes, always.” Johnny confirmed, unzipping his jeans and pushing them partway down his thighs.

He stepped out of them and kissed the singer again gently. “Lie down Moz, be there in a second, ok?”

Morrissey nodded and slid into bed, sighing in relief at the familiarity.

Johnny disappeared into the bathroom and Morrissey smiled to himself, a warm feeling settling over him.

A minute later the room was plunged into darkness and bed dipped.

Johnny spooned up behind him, wrapping him in a tight embrace.

“Your hands are freezing!” Morrissey gasped, wriggling. “Johnny!”

“Ahh sorry.” Johnny laughed, nuzzling into the back of the singers neck, pressing a kiss there.

A contented silence fell over the room for a minute and Morrissey felt for the guitarists hand, gripping him tightly.

He smiled to himself, enjoying the feel of warm arms around him after so many lonely nights in his bed. It still felt surreal sometimes, like a far off dream that had somehow become his reality.

Johnny pressed another kiss to his neck. “What’s going on in that head of yours, hmm?” he murmured. “Can hear ya brain ticking.”

“You may hear that a lot. It does not shut up.” Morrissey said regretfully.

“S’why you produce such beautiful lyrics.” Johnny reasoned. “Come here, turn round, lemme see ya.”

Morrissey obeyed this, turning in bed so the two were pressed together.

Johnny slid his hand up, stroking the singers cheek gently.

“I feel rather drowned in love and I like it.” Morrissey sighed, eyes fluttering.

Johnny chuckled. “M’glad. It’s not exactly a chore for me, babe.”

“I am still… I don’t quite know what I’m doing sometimes.” Morrissey admitted, looking somewhat shy at the confession. “You’ll have to forgive me.”

“Thats why you’re so endearing, my love.” Johnny pulled him close, kissing him on the cheek. “Please don’t worry, ok? This is supposed to be…. you know, it’s supposed to be make you happy, feel good.”

“Oh. I am happy.” Morrissey whispered. He tightened his grip on the other man. “I’m so very happy, Johnny.”

“Good.” Johnny laughed. “Me too.”

He peppered more kisses across the singers face, making him smile and squirm.

“Are you attempting to kill me with affection?”

“Yeah, that ok?”

“I would not be averse to dying this way.” Morrissey murmured

“There’s worse ways to go.” Johnny nodded. He shifted onto his back then and lifted his arm. “Come here.”

Morrissey crawled in and settled down, head on Johnny’s chest.

He slid his free hand up and began to lightly trace one of his necklaces.

“Get some sleep, Moz.” Johnny breathed. “S’been a mental week.”

“Hmm, yes.” Morrissey agreed. “Rather mad show, wasn’t it? Very handsy crowd.”

“ _Very_ handsy.” Johnny agreed. “Bit too touchy touchy for my liking.”

Morrissey smiled, remembering the buzz of the crowd and the many attempts to grab him.

“They are just trying to connect with us, the music.”

“They’re trying to feel you up, but who can blame them?” Johnny laughed.

“Well there is only one man I would let _feel me up_ , as you so eloquently put it.” Morrissey rolled his eyes but unable to keep a smile off his face.

“Oh yeah? Who’s that?”

“You cannot guess?”

“If you say Mike or Andy m’gonna evict you from this bed.” Johny warned.

Morrissey laughed then, pushing himself up so he was resting on his elbows.

Their eyes met and Johnny grinned. “You were, weren’t ya? You bloody cheeky sod.”

Morrissey laughed again, maintaining a look of innocence.

He leant up, pressing a kiss to Johnny’s cheek. “Such terrible accusations. I would _never_.”

“Hmm.” Johnny grabbed him and pulled him in tightly. “You aren’t as bloody angelic as you look, Mozza. I knew it from day one.”

“I am so very angelic. Practically saintly.”

“Not with the moves I saw you pull at that gig.” Johnny tucked the blankets around them, nuzzling into the singers hair. “Christ.”

“Ah well, just giving them all what they want.” Morrissey said airily.

He yawned then, slipping his arms round Johnny’s neck and cuddling in.

“Goodnight, John.”

“Night darling.” Johnny whispered.

He grasped the singers chin and they met in a soft kiss.

Morrissey smiled into it. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“Oh… you know, this.” Morrissey murmured vaguely.

He tucked his head back under Johnny’s chin and the guitarist laughed softly.

“You’re funny but I love you.”

Morrissey flushed, a warm feeling in his chest. “Tell me about our London shows?”

Their upcoming dates in London had the band buzzing with happiness the last few weeks.

“Camden Electric Ballroom? S’gonna be amazing, Moz.” Johnny sighed.

He began to stroke the singers hair. “Just think, first The Hacienda, The Ritz... now the Electric Ballroom? Next stop, Wembley, America, the world. We’re gonna smash it, you’ll smash it darling. You always do.”

Morrissey smiled sleepily, trying to hang onto the words and listen but he could already feel himself slipping into unconsciousness.

He tightened his grip on Johnny and sighed happily.

“.. just love being with you on stage, nothing is as good as sharing that with you..” Johnny’s voice was fading out now and he felt a soft kiss pressed to his hair a moment later. “My Moz.”

And with that sleep overtook him, Johnny’s last words settling in his brain like a comfort blanket.

*


	2. Chapter 2

*

“Come out and show me then!” Johnny slid onto the sofa in the dressing room.

“Heavens, no.”

“Come on Moz! I wanna see.”

“It looks simply terrible on me.” Morrissey sighed from the next room. “I have no idea why I thought this would be a good idea, never let me purchase a shirt like this again.”

“How can I unless you show me?” Johnny laughed, craning his neck. “Please, babe?”

There was a long pause.

“Moz?”

“If you are using terms of endearments to win me round then it will work and I am rather annoyed about this.” Morrissey sighed again.

Johnny laughed. “Come on darling, show me. Pretty please? Bet you look lovely as ever.”

There was another pause before Morrissey eventually appeared in the doorway.

He was dressed in a ruffled blue shirt, the neckline gaping low, the material sheer. It clung to him in all the right places, accentuating the curve of his waist.

Johnny’s eyes widened. “Christ. Come here right now.”

“I look hideous.” Morrissey complained but stumbled forwards.

He avoided eye contact, self consciously pulling the shirt across his body for a moment.

Johnny stood up.

“Moz, Moz, Moz.” he laughed, shaking his head.

He reached out, skimming his hands down the smooth material of the shirt, resting them on the singers hips.

He ducked his head, catching the other mans eyes. “You look bloody gorgeous.”

“Oh Johnny, I look _awful_.” Morrissey sighed, cheeks pink.

“You look divine. Bloody breathtaking.” Johnny said seriously. “I mean it.”

“I am too lanky. And skinny.”

“You’re model-esque.”

“I look like a Victorian harlot wannabe.”

Johnny snorted with laughter then. “And? I quite like your harlot dress sense.”

Morrissey sighed then, looking up and furrowing his brows. “Truly?”

“Yes.”

“Is the colour hideous on me?”

“It brings out your lovely eyes.”

“Oh.” Morrissey flushed warmly. He fumbled for Johnny’s hand, gripping him.

“I’d tell you if you looked terrible, but you never do. You could walk on in anything and it’d work, yeah?” Johnny said.

Morrissey nodded, looking down at the shirt again.

“You look bloody divine.” Johnny insisted. “Like a vision.”

Morrissey huffed out a laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “You are biased.”

“Too right I am, doesn’t mean I’m not correct though.” Johnny smiled. He raised their joined hands, kissing the singers knuckles.

Morrissey bit his lip, looking faintly thrilled but embarrassed.

“Perhaps you opinion is skewered.”

“Nah, just got two eyes and I’m seeing all of _this_ in front of me.” Johnny gestured, eyes travelling down the singers body.

Morrissey laughed then, simultaneously twisting away but wanting to stay near to the guitarist.

“Oh Johnny, hush.” he murmured. “You are very sweet to me, though.”

“Someone’s gotta tell you the truth.”

“Which is?”

“That you’re positively alluring in that sheer shirt. I’ll be proper disappointed now if she doesn’t make an appearance at tomorrow nights gig.”

“She may.” Morrissey smiled. He paused before putting his arms round Johnny’s neck, titling his head.

He still had an air of shyness and uncertainty about him.

“You believe me yet?” Johnny asked, running his thumbs gently across the other mans hip bones.

“Oh yes. I always believe you, Johnny.”

“Good. I am torn, ya know. Half of me wants you to strut out on stage in that gorgeous shirt and half of me wants to pick you up and carry you off and keep you for myself.” Johnny said.

Morrissey laughed at that, flushing.

“Truly?” he said, looking endeared. He pressed himself in close to the guitarist, their foreheads touching.

“Truly.” Johnny nodded solemnly. “Its a tough job, you know, being with such a _desired_ lead singer.”

“Stop now.” Morrissey laughed. “I am sufficiently embarrassed by all of this.”

Warmth was flooding his veins, he felt like he was floating.

Johnny laughed and coaxed him in for a soft kiss.

Morrissey relaxed into it, sliding his hand through Johnny’s long hair.

“You always look gorgeous too.” he whispered. “Unbelievably so.”

“Thanks, darling. M’not on your level with my outfits but I’ll persist.” Johnny smiled.

He pressed another kiss the singers lips. “Now. I know there’s another new shirt loitering in there and I wanna see it yeah?”

Morrissey laughed and bit his lip. “Yes. Ok.”

“If you’re embarrassed by me then pretend I’m an adoring _Smiths_ fan. You always charm them so very well with your strutting walks and borderline dangerous hip movements.” Johnny said.

“The dangerous hip movements were to entice _you_ in.” Morrissey teased lightly.

“Christ. Well it worked.” Johnny kissed him a final time. “Go on, next shirt. I’m gonna sit here and admire what’s mine.”

He released the singer and collapsed back on the sofa, relaxing back in readiness.

Morrissey turned and disappeared back into the dressing room, unable to keep the smile from his face.

With Johnny’s validation, he could face the world from now on, he was sure of it.

Sheer shirts and all.

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What can I say????? Babies in love. Enjoy :)


	3. 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> These are not in any kind of order, just absolute randomness from my brain lmao. Thanks again all u kind people x

*

Johnny’s eyes followed the trees flashing past the window of the bus, an endless repetition.

It was gloomy and grey outside, the English November day all too familiar.

He leant his head against the glass, staring into the distance as the bus rumbled on.

For once, it was quiet around him.

Mike was asleep, Andy was on the phone to his girlfriend and Morrissey was writing somewhere, holed up in a quiet corner.

Johnny reached forwards, sipping his can of drink before setting it down.

They finally had a long run of shows ahead and he smiled to himself at the thought of their official tour.

Even though life was suddenly hectic, it was like a mad dream.

Everything had fallen into place and he had everything he needed.

Soft footsteps interrupted his thoughts then and he lifted his head, looking up.

Morrissey was standing in the doorway in one of Johnny’s hooded tops, glasses on.

His hair was a bit wild and askew, swept back into a messy quiff.

He smiled at Johnny, notebook in hand.

“Are you busy?” he asked softly.

“Nah, course not. C’mere, darling.” Johnny said.

Morrissey set down his notebook and moved to sit opposite the guitarist, locking their ankles together.

“How d’ya get on?” Johnny asked, studying the other man.

The face he knew so well.

“Oh, not too bad.” Morrissey nodded, furrowing his brows. “You know how it is. It will either be superb or quite frankly, horrible. I will have to live with it for a few days before I decide.”

“S’never horrible.” Johnny smiled. "You're bloody talented."

“Only with your assistance.” Morrissey smiled back.

He titled his head, looking at Johnny then for a long moment.

“Are you ok? You look very pensive.” he murmured.

“Yeah. Just thinking about our shows and all of … this.” Johnny gestured vaguely. “You know, the tour, the band. Us.”

Morrissey nodded, still studying the guitarist.

“What?” Johnny grinned, running a hand through his hair to tame it. “You’re staring at me, what?”

“Nothing.” Morrissey laughed, looking shy. “Truly, nothing.”

He moved then, slipping onto the seat next to Johnny.

The other man pulled him in close, wrapping his arm round the singers lanky frame.

“Feels quite momentous, doesn’t it?” Morrissey murmured.

“What, babe?”

“These shows, our first _official_ tour. It’s rather exciting but a little bit scary.”

“Don’t be scared, we’ll smash it.” Johnny said. “We always do, yeah?” He turned, pressing a tender kiss to the singers temple.

Morrissey nodded and they fell quiet then, both looking out of the window.

Johnny kept his arm round the singer, rubbing his hand idly up and down his arm.

Morrissey smiled to himself, letting his mind wander for a while, thinking back on their last show.

The wild crowd grabbing him, the lights twirling, Johnny’s smiling face…

Everything was so brand new and exciting and fresh.

And he got to experience it all with the man he adored so much. The man who had taken him out of his old life and given him _this_.

A purpose, a reason, a chance to sing and dance and express himself.

But he’d also given Morrissey untold treasures.

A warm embrace, a kiss, soft words, encouraging nods and gentle hands.

Everything he had been lacking in his old life.

Suddenly he was happily immersed in soft affection and Johnny’s touch.

After such intense loneliness, it was an overwhelming rush at times to be the object of someones affection and attraction.

He still struggled sometimes, still got a little heady at the idea of Johnny’s admiring him and finding him good looking and alluring.

The singer blinked out of his own mind, gaze flickering up to Johnny.

The guitarist was still looking out of the window, his head resting against the glass window.

He had a soft, faraway look in his eyes.

Morrissey smiled. He wanted to stay in this very moment, to press the pause button and never had to be wrenched away from Johnny.

He reached for the other mans hand and Johnny automatically twined their fingers, squeezing.

Morrissey exhaled then and shut his eyes, a warm feeling settling across him.

“You alright?” Johnny whispered then.

“Oh yes.” Morrissey whispered. “Thank you.”

Johnny squeezed his hand again and contented silence fell over them.

And with the gentle sway of the bus and Johnny’s arm round him, Morrissey felt he had finally found his place.

*


	4. Chapter 4

*

Morrissey shifted in his seat, picking up the first magazine slowly and opening it.

He could feel the flutter of nerves and dread settling in his stomach.

The reviews lately had been turning on a tide, a quiet judgement and backlash beginning to simmer below the surface as their success continued to skyrocket.

He slowly skimmed through the magazine before his eyes fell on the article.

Pulling his knees up to his chest he read through it, taking in the odd compliment strung together with satire and digs. Mainly personal digs at him.

“ _Morrissey’s fey character_ ”… “ _Miserable Moz_ ” …. “ _Wielding flowers, a rather pathetic Oscar Wilde wannabe…_ ”

He swallowed, a lump in his throat.

The review barely mentioned their screaming audience or the superb playing of Johnny, Andy and Mike. It all seemed focused on him, how strange he was and how odd their fans probably were.

“ _Should we be watching out for this band? I doubt it, they will no doubt fade into pale obscurity_.” the article ended.

Morrissey shut the magazine and threw it down on the table, pulling the sleeves of his jumper down over his hands.

He felt downtrodden, beaten back.

What was the point in any of this if they were going to be ridiculed for holding gladioli rather than someone actually listening to the music?

He picked up his notebook and opened it, the words blurring on the page then as tears finally stung his eyes. He could hear laughing and talking along the corridor but couldn’t bring himself to join Johnny and Andy in their impromptu guitar session.

What was the point in pouring himself into this for people to simply rip him apart? He sat for a while writing odd words and phrases, feeling out of sorts.

Eventually he heard familiar quick footsteps.

“…don’t know, he was about. Moz?” Johnny’s voice called and the door opened. “Mozza?”

His eyes landed on the singer and he smiled, letting the door shut behind him.

“What you doing sitting in here in the dark?” he asked, walking over.

“Writing.” Morrissey replied. His voice was rough from the impending tears.

Johnny frowned. “What is it?” he asked more softly. He looked around, eyes landing on the Melody Maker magazine and NME. “Oh Moz, you haven’t been reading that shite have you?” he sighed.

Morrissey shrugged, shutting his notebook and throwing it on the side with some force, the pen bouncing onto the floor.

Johnny watched him for a moment before sliding onto the sofa next to him.

“You know what they’re like, they write any old rubbish to sell magazines.” he said. “What did it say?”

“Nothing.” Morrissey muttered.He could not bear to repeat the personal digs.

“Doesn’t look like nothing.” Johnny said slowly. He ducked his head, meeting the singers eyes.

Morrissey swallowed, jaw clenched. “I would prefer not to talk about it.”

“Whatever they said, it’s irrelevant. We know how good the gigs are, yeah?” Johnny said. “We know they all go mad, screaming and singing and dancing, so who cares what outsiders think?”

“They said I am pathetic.” Morrissey said then, voice low.

He looked around the room to avoid eye contact, folding his arms tight against his chest.

“Fuck them.” Johnny said more forcefully. “Moz, look at me. Darling?”

Morrissey frowned heavily but did so.

“They don’t know fuck all.” Johnny moved in closer, sliding both hands up the singers neck. “We’re successful, we’re smashing it and they don’t like it! We don’t fit the mold and they don’t like that.”

Morrissey nodded, studying Johnny’s brown eyes.

“We gotta keep going, babe, yeah? Keep on making music, playing shows and fucking show them that we’re on the way up.” Johnny continued. “Whatever they said about you is a load of shite. You are the most… talented writer I’ve ever met, Moz.”

Morrissey nodded again, exhaling deeply. He blinked, a few tears tracking down his cheeks.

“I can take the insults about the music.” he said quietly. “Because perhaps that is something we could work on, but just personal digs at me, why? For holding flowers? Why the push back, Johnny, I don’t… I fail to understand this level of hatred.”

“They just hate what they don’t understand.” Johnny sighed.

He reached up, gently smoothing the tears away with his thumb. “Don’t cry, darling.”

“I feel in a rut.” Morrissey whispered. “To be honest.”

He moved forwards suddenly then and Johnny pulled him into a tight embrace.

“You are so talented, so intelligent and so beautiful, ok?” Johnny murmured, pulling the singer against his chest and rocking him. “Fuck that magazine, fuck NME and whoever else. I see the love we get from our fans, yeah? They all look at you like you hung the moon.”

Morrissey smiled then and nodded, pressing his face into Johnny’s neck and inhaling the familiar smell of cigarette smoke and aftershave.

“I get upset also because the attention is just on me and how strange I am.” he said. “There is no recognition for you, nor Mike or Andy, and that isn’t fair. It is the four of us, not just me. Your guitar playing is being overlooked because they would rather bash me for wearing _glasses_.”

“I don’t want their plaudits.” Johnny said immediately. “If they’re such a lowly magazine to diss you, I don’t fucking want them to like me. I’m glad they don’t.”

He pulled back slightly and slid his hand through the singers quiff.

“Oh my love.” he sighed, studying Morrissey’s red eyes. “Wish I could make you see none of that rubbish matters.”

Morrissey nodded and exhaled. “Thank you, Johnny.” he whispered thickly.

“Come on.” Johnny said. “Come and sit with me and Andy, please? We need you to sing. Without you we’re just a couple of losers with guitars.”

Morrissey laughed then. “Completely untrue, you are both incredibly talented. I am very lucky to have you both, and Mike.”

“Well we’re just as lucky to have you, there’s no one I’d rather be backing up.” Johnny insisted firmly. “Come on.”

He stood up, pulling his arm round the singers waist.

Morrissey smiled and slipped his arm round Johnny’s shoulders, letting the guitarist lead him out and down the corridor.

Andy was sat with his bass guitar, strumming away.

“Apparently _Melody_ _Maker_ have been slagging us off, so I’m here to remind Moz how bloody good he is and how that rag doesn’t matter.” Johnny said to him.

Andy frowned. “Ahh fuck ‘em, Moz.” he said. “Bin it, jealousy is a terrible thing.”

Morrissey nodded and smiled, sitting down next to Johnny.

The three ran through some songs then, laughing as they went, changing lyrics and going off on a tangent now and again.

Eventually Andy wandered off and Johnny wrapped an arm round Morrissey’s shoulder.

“Feeling better?”

“Oh yes, much. Thank you.” Morrissey sighed. “I just get beaten back by some harsh critiques. I am rather fragile to comments like that.”

“Don’t even give it your energy.” Johnny pulled him close, kissing the singer on the top of the head.

“I am still most upset that all your superb playing was overlooked.” Morrissey said. “Regretfully I am apparently so wildly odd that no one can look away and see how good you and Andy and Mike are.”

“Told ya, if they slagged you off I don’t want ‘em to like me.” Johnny said immediately. “And if I meet ‘em in real life I’ll be telling them where to go.”

Morrissey laughed then. “I believe you.”

“I mean it! Next time NME ask for an interview they’ll be getting the middle finger from me.” Johnny said, stretching out his legs. “Or any other rag you has dissed you.”

“You are very protective of me.” Morrissey sighed. He turned and pressed his face into the other mans shoulder.

“Course I am.”

“I haven’t really experienced it before, it’s rather nice.”

“They can take their reviews and stick ‘em where the sun don’t shine.” Johnny said confidently. “Now, come on Moz. Me, you, chip shop, remember? We’re treating everyone.”

“Oh, yes. So we are.” Morrissey smiled.

The two stood up and grabbed a jacket each.

“Thank you.” Morrissey added softly, grasping Johnny’s hand then. “I truly mean it.”

“And I truly mean what I said, yeah? My little genius.” Johnny smiled, bringing their joined hands up and kissing the singers knuckles. “Now. Chippy?”

“Chippy.” Morrissey repeated back with a smile. cheeks pink. “Thank you.”

And they headed off, chattering away. Morrissey’s mind calmed once again by Johnny and his ability to calm him down and tell him exactly what he needed to hear.

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope everyone is keeping well! x


End file.
